Soli
by thelinksthatconnectus
Summary: Sometimes there is no heroic boy in green or a Twili matriarch. Still, there is pain and choices, and always a Hylian princess. (One sided) Zant/Zelda AU


Her eyes rarely left her windows. Though they were partially covered and the glass dirty, she could look out and see just enough. She could look down from her tower to the broken castle below and the great shadow beasts that had begun to live there.

Sometimes, though, she looked away. Though she had long since memorized the small room that she was held in, she always found something else to focus on - be it her bed, her burning fire, or the cracks in the brick walls.

Sometimes, there were things outside her windows not worth seeing.

* * *

The captivity was going to tear her apart. Even before, when she had been bound by the responsibilities of royalty as her father, grandmother, and all of the past Hylian rulers, she had still felt free.

The wood of her bed and desk frame felt nothing like the wood of her bow.

At night (though the lines between day and night were so blurry, to where Zelda wondered if they still existed), while her guards were away and Zant off dealing with his own business, she would dream of shooting Zant through the head. The arrow would be perfect in her mind, so close that she could almost reach out and grab it, wrap it in her hands.

Then she would wake up and find herself reaching out towards the air.

* * *

When she had been little, her then still living protector named Impa had read her princess stories. Most of the time they had laughed at how unrealistic and ridiculous they were.

Zelda needed no prince to save her; Impa had made sure of that. She had taught her first how to fight with her body. Even as a small child, she knew how to punch someone properly and the right place to kick them. Then had come the sword and knife training.

The bow, however, was what she loved best. It could be fired from a distance and still hit it's target, and could allow the escape of harm.

Back then, she had laughed at the story of the princess locked away in a tower.

Then, she became one.

* * *

Where Impa had taught her fighting skills, Zelda's mother and father taught her how to rule.

Her father taught her to read at a young age, and always let her go to the castle library whenever she pleased. There were some days where he would read books to her recounting the legends of old. Whenever he mentioned a princess Zelda, the young girl would giggle.

"That's me!"

"That's right." He smiled, and pulled her into a deep hug. "That is you."

Her mother was the head of the kingdom, inheriting the throne after her mother's death. She ruled with wisdom, and always tried to bring peace when possible.

She always seemed to know how to make the right choice.

Sometimes Zelda wondered whether or not she inherited that trait.

* * *

Would her mother have chosen this confinement if it meant the Hylian people would live?

From where she was looking down at Zelda, was she pleased or disappointed?

* * *

Zant's visits made bile rise in her throat and goosebumps run up Zelda's arms. There was no wonder why the Twili had rejected him as king.

Some days, he kept his mask off, allowing his eyes to blaze into Zelda's own. Sometimes they would go down, surveying Zelda's dark cape. She wrapped it around her body and pulled her hood over herself tighter.

Sometimes it felt like that only made Zant look at her harder.

He tried to make small talk. Most of it was unimportant, and she had to wonder what made him do it. Did he enjoy it? Or had he discovered that being king was not all it had cracked up to be and decided to get away from his position, to bother Zelda instead?

When his mask was up, Zelda felt more at ease. Usually, that meant that he would leave quickly.

* * *

"Princess, do you not tire of this?"

He made the word princess sound bad, as though Zelda's title had never meant anything at all.

"Of course I do."

"Then why stay?"

"Because I know that I would tire of everything else."

Were it not for Nayru consistently sending her wise words, then Zelda would have forgotten the goddesses long before.

She prayed constantly; it was one way to pass the time.

Still, she could only lament for so long before needing to stop.

* * *

There were nights (days?) where she did not have enough blankets, where her fire went out, and a cold chill fell over her room. Still, she made herself sleep. It was far better than staying up and listening to her teeth chatter?

* * *

"I could make you a queen."

"The queen of despair? The ruler of the damned?"

Zant scowled and turned away, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the hall.

Still, in a few weeks time he would come and ask again.

* * *

"I love you." Zant reached his arm out towards her.

"No you don't." Zelda stepped away from him.

She had seen love before; this was nothing like how her mother and father had acted.

"Get away from me."

* * *

Spirits and the dead, Zelda realized one day. They are both tied together, the same.

It seemed that both choices would have doomed her kingdom.

I should have known, Zelda thought. How did I not?

Perhaps Impa and her parents walked among the spirits in the abandoned kingdom.

* * *

In her dreams, he invaded her kingdom and yet she let her sword fall. She thought what she was doing was right.

She could still hear the sound of her sword hitting the floor with a thud.

* * *

Zant was a much more preferable guest than his master, the monster from her old stories. He only stayed long enough to look at her and beam.

It seemed that he had finally captured his princess.

* * *

Zant would keep asking; always, he remained on schedule.

If he thought Zelda would break, then he was wrong.

Even if she could not be sure if she had made the wrong choice before, she would stand by it. If Zant was angered by it, then he could only blame himself. It was he who made her choose.

* * *

It would be so easy to break a window.

Still, there was no telling just how dangerous the outside was.

* * *

She had no crown on her head, but she held it in her heart. All the gold that she needed was the glowing triangle on her hand.

Despite Zant and Ganondorf's best efforts, this was still her kingdom.

Power corrupted, but wisdom brought light to even the darkest and most forgotten of places.


End file.
